Solace
by XxFearTheFluffxX
Summary: Trapped in a terrible silence, Riza will accept comfort in whatever form she can have it... Even the strong can be weak sometimes. - RoyxRiza, ONESHOT -


**HAPPY NEW YEAR! :D This is my first story of the new year and will hopefully be followed by many more (one of my many new year's resolutions is to dedicate more time and effort to my writing). Just a simple little one shot here that was more or less written by mistake. Enjoy!**

-X-

There was something funny about silence, Riza Hawkeye decided, staring listlessly at the worn grain of her dining room table. It didn't feel right; didn't feel _natural_. In all her years as a solider of the State, she had never liked sitting in absolute quiet; now was no different. Silence felt dead. Silence felt cold. And silence, like an auditory version of the dark, felt like fear, sadness and regret.

With shaking hands she reached for the glass of whisky, poured earlier in haste as anxiety and dread had shredded at her insides. It's pungent smell spoke of warmth, of comfort, and in these most dangerous of times a little comfort could go a long way. Riza allowed herself only a brief moment of self-contempt before drowning the entire glass, relishing the feel of it burning down her oesophagus. Liquid fire spread through her veins and her unsteady hands stilled, the pleasure-pain of the whisky working to unclog her mind of the suffocating horror she'd borne all evening.

"Hmph. If the Colonel could see me now." Her derisive snort was met with yet more silence, not even the snuffles of Black Hayate breaking the smog of noiselessness.

Riza was a proud woman, almost to a fault – she knew herself well and saw no sense denying it. There were very few instances in her life she could remember resorting to alcohol as a form of solace, much preferring to endure the old-fashioned way, with willpower alone. She wouldn't, on any other day, allow her mind to dwell on things that were better off forgotten like this – she would drown them out, doing mind-consuming, _purposeful_ tasks until she collapsed into a dreamless slumber...

That was what the _real _Riza Hawkeye would do.

So why now? After everything she'd seen, everything she'd _done... W_hy was she having a meltdown over something so... so irrelevant? And it _was _irrelevant. Totally meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Riza had withstood incidents of far greater magnitude before, with barely a bat of an eyelid either. She'd killed people in the past – slaughtered innocents in cold blood, for no other reason than she'd been told to. She had murdered the defenceless, massacred the weak... And never, not during her very darkest hours of suffocating regret and paralysing memories, had Riza resorted to the bottle to ease her troubled soul. Yet this... _this_ had her trembling as though the justice of God himself were upon her.

It didn't make sense.

"That look," she mumbled, staring vacantly into the empty bottom of her glass. "that look in the Führer's eyes today. What _was_ that?"

Riza mentally shook herself, incensed by her own thin attempts at denial. She could ask the questions all she pleased – could play this game with herself until the world crumbled down around her – but it wouldn't change the fact that she _knew_ what it was. She wasn't stupid. Even had she not spent years being trained for such, Riza had always had a talent for reading people. She knew, unequivocally, what she'd seen in his one uncovered eye when the Führer spoke about his wife...

_Love_. Pure, unadulterated love.

It was an emotion entirely too human for the likes of the homunculi, and Riza supposed that was what frightened her most. The homunculi were meant to be monsters – beasts parading as humans. But if they could feel such things as love... if they could possess that which was supposed to set humans apart from them... did that mean they were really any different at all? What if, looking past the obvious differences, humans and homunculi were the same?

If such a thing were true, it would change everything. It was one thing for this madness to be the doing of monsters... but for it to be the doing of humans?

A knock at the door rousted Riza from her thoughts, and she'd never been more grateful for a distraction in her life. Almost tripping over her feet, she shot to the entrance and drew back the deadbolt, eager to greet her unexpected visitor. It wasn't until her hand rested on the doorknob, her wrist already tensing to twist, that she fully realized the plausible danger of her actions.

What if it was an assassin sent by the Führer? What if Roy had somehow put a foot wrong, and Bradley had sent some one to deal with her as per the terms of their uneasy agreement?

She shook her head fiercely – that was just the whiskey talking. Roy Mustang would never risk the lives of his subordinates, not for anything. He wouldn't make any moves that held even the slightest hazard, and she was too valuable alive for the Führer to want to kill her without provocation.

Besides, no self-respecting assassin would just stroll right up to her door.

With a decisive nod she pulled it open, reaching for her gun holster nonetheless – one didn't get this far as a soldier without a healthy dose of paranoia.

Her mouth fell open when she glimpsed the figure on the other side, but only for an instant. Silhouetted by the light in her hallway, Riza narrowed her eyes to get a better look at the familiar outline beyond the warmth of her apartment.

"Colonel Mustang, Sir. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" Riza snapped to attention, saluting him as was expected of a lower-ranked soldier.

"At ease, Lieutenant." Roy smirked, nudging her out of the way and easing into her hallway.

Obediently, Riza relaxed her stance, closing the door behind her. She expected he had something important to tell her – he wouldn't have come otherwise. This operation was too big to blow their cover on nothing more than a friendly hello.

"I take it you weren't followed?" she asked, more for formality's sake than anything else. The Colonel wasn't likely to let himself be followed.

"Can't say for sure," he shrugged nonchalantly, earning a raised eyebrow. "It doesn't really matter if I was."

"What do you mean, Sir?" Riza questioned uneasily. That wasn't like him. Wasn't like him at all.

"I'm joking, Riza." he laughed, the sound hard and devoid of any real mirth – Roy hadn't laughed properly since the war in Ishbal. "Of course, I wasn't followed."

She breathed a silent sigh of relief. She should have known better.

He wandered into her dining room, looking around at the sparse furnishings as he did. Riza had always, for as long as she could remember, been a woman of practicality. She didn't go in for the fancy ornaments or pretty trinkets – in the end all they did was clutter up space best left clear. Anything that wasn't useful wasn't worth having in her book. In fact the only item she owned that didn't have a purpose was a necklace left to her by her father; a locket with pictures of he and her mother in it.

"Having a hard day, Hawkeye?" Roy asked suddenly, gesturing to the empty whiskey glass on the table.

Riza's cheeks reddened at having her dirty little secret found out. It was one thing to know herself that she'd been so weak – quite another for someone else to know it too. And it was almost unbearable to have that someone be Roy Mustang. For him to think of her as anything short of strong and reliable rankled like nothing else could.

"No, Sir." she lied, standing stiffly by the doorway. He took a seat, lounging backwards until the wooden chair was suspended on two legs, the back resting against the wall, and studied her with a look that said he was unconvinced. "I just happen to enjoy a small drink after work."

Roy's lips quirked, his dark eyes laughing beneath his mop of black hair. "Liar."

She ignored him. It was better that way – meant she wouldn't have to fight to hold on to what was left of her pride. Instead she took the seat opposite him and waited expectantly; whatever he had to say, Riza knew better than to rush him.

After a few moments of companionable silence – no longer the silence of earlier but rather a warm, relaxing quiet, punctuated by Roy's calm breathing and the rustle of his clothes as he tapped his long fingers against his leg – Roy cleared his throat, nodding to the empty tumbler again.

"Do you have any more of that?" he asked.

"O-Of course, Sir." she frowned, getting up to pour him some.

"And you can drop the 'Sir' now, Riza. It's just us – no need to stand on ceremony." he added, stretching out his arms so he could slide his worn, black bomber jacket off without having to stand up. He tossed it onto the table and settled back in his chair, rolling the sleeves of his dark blue shirt to three quarters their length.

Riza watched all this from the mostly empty drinks cabinet on the far left side of the room, wondering as she poured first the Colonel a drink, then – upon consideration – herself one, just how long this information exchange was going to take. By the looks of it, Roy was settling himself in for the long haul. And if he was asking for alcohol to go with it, it must be grave news indeed.

"Yes Si- I mean, yes Roy." she corrected herself, bringing the beverages to the table.

"Much better," he muttered in approval, accepting his glass and taking a generous gulp of the honey-coloured liquid sloshing inside. "You've always been such a stickler for the rules, Riza. You should try to loosen up once in a while."

"Duly noted," Riza commented dryly, taking a swig of her own drink. "May I ask why you've come calling at such an unsavoury hour? Or have you just come to pass comment on my speech habits?"

"Can't a man visit his friends without having his motives questioned?" Roy countered.

"Not when that man is you, Roy Mustang." she shot back, smiling at the exchange. It felt so normal. Like somehow, despite all the trouble they'd managed to get themselves caught up in, there was a piece of the world that was still sane.

He chuckled, throwing back the rest of the whiskey. "I suppose you're right." he agreed, his trademark smirk reappearing. He seemed about to say something else, but changed his mind before the syllables could form.

_Don't rush him, _Riza reminded herself. _He'll tell you when he's ready._

In all honesty, Riza wasn't sure _she_ was ready for what he had to say. The last time he'd acted so elusive was when Maes died, and although she'd sworn to herself she would see this thing through no matter what, the thought that yet another of their comrades had perished in the crossfire was almost more than she could bear. How many more good soldiers would they have to lose to win this war? How many more good _friends _would they have to lose?

It didn't bear thinking about.

Setting aside his glass, Roy rose in one fluid movement, crossing to the radio on the chest of drawers in the corner and turning it on. A burst of static filled the room. Riza chuckled as he fiddled with the old-fashioned tuning knob, cursing under his breath as the reception went from bad to worse.

"Honestly – this thing's older than _you _are." he grumbled, trying to find a station that wasn't completely obscured by hissing.

"I'm going to overlook that slur at my age, Colonel," she scolded fondly, following him to the radio and pushing him aside. "And it works well enough if you have the right touch."

"Again with the titles?"

Riza laughed, a short unrepentant snort. With a deft flick of her fingers a soft, swaying music flowed gently from the ancient wireless, smooth and silky and utterly free of interference. Somewhere deep in her soul Riza felt herself calm a little. Even as a young girl, Riza had always loved music. So many stories, all captured in the magic of melody – it was the only art form she'd ever learned to appreciate, much to her late mother's dismay.

"Sorry Roy. I forgot."

She shifted, lithely dodging around Roy's solid body and heading back to her seat. To Riza's shock however, he snatched her wrist from behind and spun her into his chest, his hands settling on her waist as he began to oscillate from side to side in time with the music.

"What are you-!" Riza exclaimed, pushing against his muscled torso with both hands. His evasiveness she could handle, but _this_? What on earth had happened to make him so... not himself? "Roy, what's the matter? What's happened?"

Disregarding her increasingly apprehensive enquiries, Roy pulled her closer and continued to dance (assuming his slow undulations could be referred to as 'dancing'). His eyes were closed, his face more peaceful than she'd seen it since before Hughes' death. He hummed along to the radio, completely out of tune, his sonorous voice sending unbidden chills up Riza's spine. It was as if he were a completely different man. The man he _might_ have been, were it not his fate to bear the burdens he had.

With nothing else for it, Riza wound her arms around his neck and followed his lead, ignoring the thud of her heart as he opened his eyes briefly to smile down at her. She usually didn't dance – it wasn't really her style. But to see Roy in such peace... to see him so calm and relaxed... _That_ was worth anything.

They swayed to the music in perfect synchrony, oblivious to the world and the many troubles therein. If she closed her eyes Riza could almost picture them as an ordinary couple, dancing the night away at some party or other... A nice thought, but an unrealistic one. Riza knew, given the choice, she would make exactly the same decisions all over again.

"You've always liked music, haven't you Riza?" he asked suddenly, breaking the tranquil moment. "It helps you unwind... am I right?"

Riza nodded. She wasn't surprised he knew about it – despite appearances, he was a very observant man... mostly. And he'd known her a pretty long time, so it was only natural he picked up some rudimentary information on her. Besides, it wasn't like she made a secret of it.

"You know what helps _me_ relax?"

Surprisingly enough, she didn't. Riza Hawkeye knew a great many things about the enigma that was Roy Mustang, but that was one thing she couldn't profess to know. He seemed so carefree most of the time anyway... If he relaxed any further he'd turn into a useless blob.

"Shock me." she smirked. Roy pulled her closer against him, an action that _did _shock her simply because it was so unlike him – but surely she was just imagining things?

Still, imagined or not it didn't stop her heart racing. Nor did it prevent her palms from sweating, or make her mouth any less dry when she glanced up into his hooded eyes. Riza swallowed audibly, her hands sliding from his neck to press against his chest again – she was suddenly acutely aware of the inappropriateness of their situation, though she couldn't _quite_ bring herself to push him away just yet.

"S-Sir?"

"Shh..." he whispered, leaning in.

Riza's eyes widened, her brain completely unable to believe what was happening. However despite her inability to comprehend the situation, she was pretty certain a line was about to be crossed that couldn't be uncrossed – and the sad fact of the matter was she didn't know whether she wanted to stop it or not.

Their lips met before Riza could organise her thoughts, and then it was too late. Her sense of propriety crumbled, her hands fisting in his shirt as his warm, slightly chapped lips worked a magic she'd hitherto thought non-existent. The next day, when she had room enough in her brain to think again, Riza would swear she fell in love with Roy Mustang the instant their mouths met, like a switch being flipped somewhere inside.

Roy on the other hand would insist he'd loved her from the start.

His tongue poked curiously at her bottom lip, and Riza admitted him almost on instinct. He tasted like coffee and chilli powder, soothing with a hint of fire. There was a trace of whiskey too, which added an irresistible element of recklessness to him. In a haze, Riza wondered how she'd ever managed to withstand him all these years.

He advanced slowly, drunkenly, forcing her back against the wall and pinning her with his body. Riza gasped when he bit her lower lip, shivering as he moved his lips over her cheek to her left ear. He kissed her gently, biting and sucking occasionally, smiling into her skin when she made unintelligible noises low in her throat. She felt his hands move up her sides to her hair, pulling it loose to let it fall around her face. She smiled – for some reason Roy had always liked her long hair down. She remembered him telling her he was glad she'd grown it out.

"What relaxes me, _Lieutenant_, is being with a woman as gorgeous as you." he murmured against the shell of her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and nibbling softly.

Riza snapped to attention suddenly, her mind crashing back to reality. She shoved hard against Roy's chest, her forehead crinkling in a frown. Whatever she felt for the Colonel, she absolutely refused to be just another notch on his bedpost. She didn't care _how_ bad a day he'd had, she wouldn't be used. Not by him; not by _anyone. _That just wasn't the way she rolled.

"I think you should leave, Sir." Riza stated coldly, her eyes hardening.

Roy drew back to look at her, his curious dark eyes making her insides quiver violently. She'd never felt such... such _want_ before. There was an uncomfortable burning in the pit of her stomach, so intense she thought she might melt. Her mind wandered to forbidden ideas of what it would feel like to lie with him, skin against skin – how wonderful it would feel to let go of all her reservations and be with him in every sense of the expression.

But even as her cheeks burned hotter than a furnace, her traitorous mind picturing lewd scenarios before she could successfully shackle her imagination, Riza knew she had to send him away. She was by no means a virgin, heaven knew, but she couldn't allow herself to be used that way by the man she trusted most. She wouldn't let him shake her faith in him.

"You're beautiful when you blush like that," he grinned, something akin to resignation in the lines of his weary face. He leaned forward again and stole another knee-buckling kiss, ignoring her increasingly frenzied heaves against him.

At last he pulled away, resting his forehead hers and looking deep into her warm brown eyes. "Thank you – for stopping me. Our first time shouldn't be poisoned by all this madness."

Riza blinked. Was he insinuating what she thought he was insinuating, or was she losing it? Because it _sounded _like he was suggesting this wasn't the end of whatever it was they'd just started. Not by a long shot.

"Roy?" she breathed hesitantly.

"Shh," he quietened her, stooping for another kiss, this one soft and chaste.

He stepped back and headed for the exit, grabbing his jacket from the table as he passed. Waving casually over his shoulder, Roy pulled the door ajar.

"I'll see you later, Lieutenant. Until then, be safe."

And with that he left, leaving Riza reeling in his wake.

She stared hard at the door for quite some time following his departure, not sure whether she'd been dreaming or hallucinating or both. But eventually, heart still thudding from the whole experience, she returned to her seat, never taking her eyes off the spot she'd seen Roy last, before he'd slipped out into the night.

"Be safe, Colonel." she whispered.

-X-


End file.
